Tactics and Strategy
by rosabelle317
Summary: [Set during Jack's S2 appearance.] The key to Jack staying in Sharon's good graces was making Rusty like him.


**Warnings: **Mentions of psychological/emotional abuse, manipulative behavior, general douchebaggery, and everything else that co-exists along with Jack Raydor.

**Tactics and Strategy**

The couch was uncomfortable.

Jack turned over onto his back and found himself thinking wistfully of the old sofa they'd had in the house. He'd spent plenty of nights on that one too. There'd been a pull-out bed but most times, he hadn't wanted to bother, and had just grabbed a blanket and a pillow and curled right on up. That one had been nicer, softer. Real leather, not this itchy fabric.

The couch had changed, but Sharon was the same.

Mostly the same.

She was as frigid and unforgiving as ever, at least when it came to him.

But there _was_ one thing that was noticeably different.

This kid Sharon had taken in, Rusty, he seemed like a good lad. And boy, did Jack wonder about the whole story behind that one. Sharon had kept it brief—foster care, then hustling, then the serial killer. Strictly the facts, and then she'd made it clear that Jack was not to discuss any of these things with Rusty himself. Several times, like she thought he hadn't heard her the first time.

What Sharon did was her business, he got that, but it was strange. That was all.

They'd talked about having a third kid a couple of times. Sharon had said two or three in the beginning. She'd changed her mind after Ricky, because suddenly two was plenty, two was enough, two was it for them.

She hadn't even wanted the kids to have a pet. A _pet_.

Awhile back—years ago now, the last good year—he'd done his damnedest to persuade her to get the kids a puppy for Christmas. They'd asked for one—well, Emily had asked, and then she'd taught Ricky to say "daaaaah" and laugh whenever he saw a dog. Jack had agreed, the kids were thrilled, all that was left to do was to convince Mommy. Nothing expensive, a stray, a rescue, they could let the kids pick one out for themselves. It would be the kids' dog, really.

Sharon had said no.

Not to be deterred, Jack had taken Emily to the library, where they'd read to each other from books about the care and feeding of golden retrievers, labradors, Dalmatians, even those ridiculous little things that looked like floppy-eared hot dogs on legs, and then photocopied the "for adoption" notices in the newspaper. It had been more time that he'd spent with his girl in forever. On the way home, a stack of books in Ricky's empty carseat, they'd detoured through the McDonald's drive thru, and he'd fed her fries dipped into a chocolate shake while they read through the ads more carefully.

This one, Daddy, Emily had said, pointing to one with sticky fingers. Jack couldn't remember now what sort of dog it had been, but there had been a picture, blurry and black and white. Emily had fallen in love.

Sure, sweetie, he'd responded. Even Mommy can't say no to that face.

Except that she had.

Bouncing a fussy Ricky on her hip, she'd pressed her lips into a thin, unhappy line, and said no. She'd tried to let Emily down gently, Jack would give her credit for that, but it was the first time Emily's heart had been broken. He still remembered how when Emily had burst into tears and run off, Sharon had handed him Ricky and gone after Emily without a word to him, leaving Jack standing there like he was the bad guy all of a sudden.

It was funny how he'd forgotten about that until now.

A kid was a hell of a lot more work than a dog, that was all Jack was saying.

He tried to see it from her point of view.

Sharon must be lonely. Who else did she have, now that the kids were grown?

Emily had been in New York almost ten years now. How often did she ever make it home? She was busy, flights were expensive. Sharon probably didn't get to see her too often. And Ricky sounded like he was doing pretty well for himself. Business was going well, money was coming in, life was good. Jack was proud of him. The last time he'd had a real conversation with Ricky had been years ago, at Thanksgiving his senior year of high school. Or was it the first year of college? It was so hard to keep track, sometimes. Last he knew, Ricky had only been thinking of studying computers. Jack didn't think they'd even had a chance to finish that conversation before Sharon had gone and picked a fight, and he'd left for the sake of the kids. Emily had tried to call him afterwards but though she'd said she wanted to talk, it had been Sharon's words coming out of her mouth. He hadn't been able to bring himself to return the call, and she hadn't called a second time.

He was always the bad guy in the kids' eyes. Sharon had made sure of that.

It had taken awhile, but when he'd gotten his name onto the court-appointed attorney's list, he'd decided to forgive Sharon. The past was in the past, right? Anger only bred anger. It was time to put it behind them and move on. And hey, she had a spare bedroom and he needed a place to crash for a few nights until the apartment he'd found became available. It was funny how sometimes everything just fell into place.

Or didn't.

Sharon had refused to cosign, and the spare bedroom had turned out not to be quite as spare as Jack had expected.

Which brought him back to Rusty.

Jack shifted, trying to make himself relax on the couch. He really didn't see how Sharon could stand to sit on this thing. The cushions were too stiff and even with the sheets spread across them, he could feel the seam between the cushions with his knee. He should just give up and try to sleep on the floor, but that might be even worse.

It wasn't like Jack thought Sharon should kick the kid out of his room while he was here. From the little Sharon had told him so far, Jack gathered that life had dealt Rusty a bad hand. Having had a few tough breaks himself, Jack understood. It wasn't the kid's fault, and he needed somewhere to feel safe. But would it kill _Sharon_ to sleep on the couch for a few nights, really?

Or they could've just skipped this couch business entirely.

Maybe he'd been a terrible husband in a lot of other ways, he was willing to admit that, but Sharon had certain needs that weren't getting met, needs that Jack had always prided himself on his ability to fulfill. What was the big deal, that the kid was there? Who cared? They were husband and wife, nothing shocking or scandalous there. If it mattered that much to her, he could come and sleep on the couch afterwards.

She'd come around, sooner or later. She always warmed up to him in the end. Or she would, if she'd let him get close enough to kiss her neck the way he knew she liked.

In the meantime, there were other ways to wear down that layer of ice around her.

He'd started asking Rusty about school every night at dinner, just to see if it would make Sharon relax a little. It had. Jack would've missed it if he hadn't been watching for it, but the first time he'd asked, her eyes had met his, just for a moment, and her smile hadn't been quite as practiced (like she thought he couldn't tell).

Rusty was the key here.

Sharon was attached. Jack could see it in the way she looked at him, the way her face softened and she actually smiled when Rusty made her breakfast. It was obvious even when she was fed up with him, because when she was nagging him about homework it was in the same tone he'd heard her use on their own kids. (And he hated to judge because she was doing a good thing giving the kid a home, but she did seem to get short-tempered with him an awful lot.)

Jack was less sure that Rusty would stick around if the kid had anywhere else to go, because c'mon. He was seventeen, almost an adult. He didn't need to be driven around in the backseat of a black and white everywhere he went. Jack was trying to help him out but he wouldn't be around forever and couldn't Sharon see she was embarrassing the poor kid? All that lecturing about studying too. It was the middle of summer. Sure, Rusty needed to catch up in school, but would it really be the end of the world if he took a night off? All he ever did was hang around the condo. It was no wonder he was so confused. Sharon was smothering him. It couldn't be healthy. He could see what was in it for Sharon, if Rusty was her only emotional outlet with the kids too busy for her, but it surprised him that Rusty was willing to put up with it.

But however Rusty felt about Sharon, what really mattered here was how Rusty felt about Jack. Because even if she wasn't ready to admit it—she'd always been a little guarded and a little cold, but he knew her too well and she couldn't hide it from him—Sharon loved the boy, and he knew from the way she acted around their own kids that she would always do what she thought was in his best interest. Jack needed to be sure that _he_ was Rusty's best interest, or she'd never let him stay.

He could tell she wasn't happy to have him hanging around this long. She was civil, but she hadn't gone out of her way to make him feel welcome.

But really, Sharon had no one to blame but herself for that. She could've just cosigned the lease for him and then he would've been long gone and out of her hair. She'd always been one to make things difficult for herself like that.

Ah, well. They were what they were. Couldn't help that, and they'd stopped surprising each other a long time ago.

Jack fluffed the pillow into a more comfortable shape and then turned over onto his back, closing his eyes and settling down for as good a night's sleep as he could get.


End file.
